


The usual methods of getting by

by Fatale (femme)



Category: dueSouth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-26
Updated: 2006-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the best of times, Fraser wasn't exactly what you'd call rational. He was smart, but lately, he'd been even more off his rocker than usual and not in the good, criminal-catching way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The usual methods of getting by

**Author's Note:**

> FYI - Vague references to violence against women on a TV show. Please do not read this if it bothers you. The show Ray's watching was a real show that I remember watching when I was a child and it stuck with me.

The usual methods of getting by  
Fandom: dueSouth  
(Fraser/RayK) PG  
WC: 1593

 

 

 

At the best of times, Fraser wasn't exactly what you'd call rational. He was smart, but lately, he'd been even more off his rocker than usual and not in the good, criminal-catching way.

Ray yanked him back by the scruff of his mountie neck. He had to reach up, and that just made him angrier. The bastard had the _nerve_ to be taller than him. "Hello, did you not just see that truck?" he asked rudely, shaking Fraser.

Fraser blinked owlishly, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d come to be here. "Well, no, I'm afraid I didn't, Ray."

Ray’s head hurt. He was getting a migraine - no, _worse_. He was getting _brain cancer_ and it was all Fraser's fault because ever since he got back from his vacation (since when did Fraser take vacations?), he hadn't been the same. And when Ray had tried to ask him about it, Fraser had remained uncharacteristically silent. Normally, you couldn't shut the guy up and when Ray wanted him to talk, then he decided to close up tighter than a clam. Or however the fuck the expression went.

Fraser was barrelling through traffic again, apologising to every car that nearly took him out and Ray had to jog to catch up. He felt his brain shrivel a little more.

 

 

***

 

 

“Here’s the list you needed,” Frannie said, throwing a stack of papers at him that missed his head by mere inches.

“What’s your problem?” Ray snapped.

“Nothing,” she sighed petulantly, making him glad he’d never had any kids with Stella. His nerves couldn’t handle much more of this.

“Fine,” Ray said and went back to scanning his file.

“It’s just that-” she started and Ray rolled his eyes. “Well, Fraser’s acting odd. Odder than usual.”

At the mention of Fraser, Ray’s ears perked up.

“He rarely comes around and even when he does, he doesn’t pay attention to anyone.”

Ray bit back the urge to say that Fraser’d never noticed Francesca quite as much as she’d noticed him, but she was right this time. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “So what do you think is wrong with him?”

“Oh, I _know_ what’s wrong with him and that’s the problem. He’s in love.” She leaned against his desk and looked at him speculatively.

“What?”

She shrugged. “I just though you’d know about it.”

“Fraser’s a grown man, he doesn’t have to tell me everything.” He didn’t know why he was getting so angry about it.

“Whatever,“ she said and produced a nail file out of nowhere. “I just thought that’s what friends do. You know, tell each other stuff.”

“Yeah, and then we get our balls back. Christ, Frannie. We’re not women.” He opened his file again. “Go do your nails somewhere else.”

He felt her make a face at him and heard the tap of her heels as she flounced off.

Fraser in love. Of course not. But in some sick kind of way, it made sense. They guy wasn’t asexual or anything and he had to settle down sometime. It wasn’t like he was hurting for offers.

Frannie’s words came back to him. What annoyed Ray most about them was that they were true. He’d thought they shared stuff, too. They were a duo, partners, a duet.

Without Fraser, it would be an uno. And that just sounded stupid.

 

***

 

He hated stakeouts enough, but he hated stakeouts more when Fraser wasn’t talking to him. “I’m sorry about yelling at you this morning.” He felt angry and frustrated; he wasn’t used to feeling this off balance around Fraser. “It’s just, if something changed between us, you’d tell me right?”

Fraser went very still.

“If we were the same, it would be okay. But if we aren‘t, I‘d like to know.”

“Everything’s fine, Ray,” Fraser said in a strained voice.

“It’s not fine,” Ray insisted. “It is so not fine that it’s ridiculous in its not fineness.”

“I don’t see why you’re upset, Ray.”

“Okay, stop saying my name.”

“Why you have a problem with it?”

He knew Fraser was just being snotty and winding him up, but he couldn’t help snapping, “What d’you mean, you don’t know why it bothers me? I feel like you don’t know who you’re even fucking talking to.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ray.”

"Don't you say my name again,” Ray warned him for the last time. If he said it again, he’d hit him. He swore it. Fraser opened his mouth to speak but Ray cut him off, " _Don't you do it._ "

"Very well," Fraser said in a clipped tone. "Detective," he added.

Ray brought his fist down on the dashboard so hard he heard it crack. Sometimes, Fraser could be such a bitch.

 

 

***

 

When he heard the knock on the door, he knew it was Fraser because he was the only one who could make a door knock sound apologetic.

“What?” he grumbled, just for show. He wasn’t angry any more, just kind of tired. And hungry, but he didn’t feel like getting up to eat.

“I’ve brought a peace offering.”

“If it doesn’t get me drunk, then go away,” Ray called out.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “I think there’s a corner market. Wait just a minute.”

“Fraser, get in here. The door’s unlocked.”

The first thing Fraser did when he came inside carrying a greasy looking pizza box, was frown and then lecture him about the safety hazards of unlocked doors in Chicago.

“Oh, shut up,” Ray said, but couldn’t help grinning. He’d missed this.

“Yes, Ray,” Fraser said obediently and set the box down on the table. “What are you watching?”

“It’s about a women who was attacked in her apartment-” Fraser looked pointedly at Ray’s unlocked door and Ray chose to ignore it. “-and the guy, he beat her up real bad. Her face was all lopsided and stuff and she had been planning on getting married in a month. She couldn’t do it looking all beat up, so she went to this doctor to get plastic surgery. Some people are sick fucks, huh?”

He glanced up, but Fraser didn’t seem to be listening. Instead, he was looking down at Ray with this really intent look, almost fond-like or something. He scratched his stomach self-consciously, uncomfortable with being scrutinized so closely.

“Do you know where I went on my vacation?”

Ray fought down a wave of irritation. “You wouldn’t tell me,” he said flatly.

Fraser sat down on the floor in front of the couch so that they were eye level with each other. “I didn’t know how to.”

“You didn’t like, marry a prostitute, did you?” Ray asked suspiciously. It would be just like Fraser to marry and a prostitute for all the right reasons and then fall in love with her. “She’ll break your heart, Fraser.”

Fraser laughed then, making Ray frowned. It was a nervous laugh and Fraser didn’t get nervous for no reason.

“I went to see my father.”

“Isn’t he dead?”

“Well, yes, technically.”

“He’s either dead or he isn’t.”

“He’s dead then.”

Ray scratched his stomach again. “Okay, I was just making sure.” If they quibbled over every weird-ass detail in one of Fraser’s stories, they’d be talking all night and he wouldn’t get the see the good part of the show where they unveiled the woman’s new face.

“Anyway, I was talking to my father about love. See, I always thought that maybe I wasn’t cut out for it.”

That wasn’t right, Ray thought. If anyone loved, it was Fraser. He was always doing nice things for other people and getting them into deep shit for it.

“But Dad said that I already had it and that any fool could see it.”

“You’re sure you didn’t marry a prostitute?”

“Please leave that alone, Ray.”

“Never again,” he promised and made a motion for Fraser to continue.

“I didn’t know what he was taking about.”

Ray waited for a few minutes and when Fraser didn’t continue, he tapped his foot impatiently. “So?”

“So?” Fraser echoed dumbly. “Oh, yes. I think he was talking about you.”

Ray blinked. He’d been expecting tales of bears, dead guys, prostitutes and Inuits. Not this.

Fraser licked his lips. “Maybe I should leave.” He made a move to stand and Ray grabbed his arm.

Ray’s mind was racing. He’d never thought of Fraser like that, well, besides the passing thought, but those were normal. He’d wanted to know all about Fraser and this was a big-ass piece of information to digest.

His hand looked pale against the red flannel, but it was okay. He imagined touching the skin beneath that material and oddly enough, those thoughts were okay, too.

“Ray?” Fraser asked, his voice husky. The light from the TV highlighted his cheeks, but threw his eyes into shadow so he couldn’t see Fraser’s expression, but he imagined his expression mirrored his own: fucking scared.

“Shut up,” he said and pulled Fraser to him.

It wasn’t like kissing a girl, Fraser’s lips were too firm and his chin too rough to even be in the same ballpark, but it was nice. A warm feeling settled in his belly and he felt his breathing hitch.

Fraser leaned forward and began kissing him back with an urgency that made him nervous, but kind of excited. The heavy weight against his chest would take some getting used to, but with the quiet thrill he was getting from the way Fraser’s tongue ran softly over his bottom lip, he’d find some way to bear it.

 

 

end.


End file.
